‘Gregory,’ I say, jumping back from the window.
Sandy looks at me in anticipation then undoes the dead lock.
‘Wait!’ I whisper. ‘I don’t want to see him.’
‘But Scarlett, he’s getting soaked through out there.’
‘No, I don’t want to. Please send him away. Tell him I’m not here or something, anything. I don’t want to see him.’ I scurry behind the wall into the lounge, close enough that I’ll be able to hear his voice.
His soft South African twang asks where I am and Sandy tells him I’m not home.
‘Is she okay?’
There’s silence and I wonder what’s happening, then Gregory shouts, ‘Scarlett, please.’
There’s a genuine pleading in his voice that makes me want to go to him, to soothe him and tell him that everything will be fine.
‘Scarlett!’
‘She doesn’t want to see you, I’m sorry.’
There’s silence again and I listen to drops of rain hitting the ground. Leaning back against the lounge wall, I close my eyes, thinking of the last time he wore that outfit. Chapel Down. I bite my cheeks but it doesn’t prevent tears forming in my eyes, welling, waiting to fall.
‘He’s gone,’ Sandy says.
I nod but can’t speak.
‘Come on, it’s after three and the vicar is coming today; let’s go to bed.’
I nod and take the hand Sandy offers me.
‘Scarlett,’ Sandy whispers through my opening bedroom door. ‘Sorry to wake you but the vicar will be here in an hour.’
‘What time is it?’ I mumble with my face squashed into my pillow.
‘Eleven-thirty.’
‘Oh my God! I’m up, I’m up!’ I say, not moving at all.
‘Okay, I’ll pop a pot of tea on. Would you like some food? Pancakes, maybe?’ she says too temptingly, forcing me to sit and smile in response. ‘Oh, and Scarlett,’ she says, stepping back into my room from the landing, ‘mind your use of the Lord’s name for the next few hours, won’t you?’
Reverend Griffiths arrives in smart, black trousers, a black shirt, a white dog collar and a tweed blazer. A remarkably ordinary outfit. His grey hair is thinning but still covers his head and his bright-blue eyes look pure and honest beneath his large, round-rimmed glasses. It almost seems silly how long it took for me to eventually settle on a blue dress and navy cardigan. Sandy has made an extra special effort to look angelic too. Her hair is tightly curled and pinned back. Tiny kitten heels have replaced her slippers and she wears a pretty, pastel-green, wrap dress with a white, Victorian collar.
We exchange pleasantries and sit to take tea in the lounge. The reverend sits in my dad’s striped, high-back chair, which irritates me more than it ought to. Sandy takes the lead with conversation, being more familiar than I am with how to address a man of his stature. Watching them smile and converse politely, they look like nice, good people. I feel increasingly like an imposter. Clinging to my cup and saucer for support, I walk to the bay window and stare out to the low, end-of-October sun.
‘It would be helpful if you could tell me about how Doctor Heath passed on,’ Reverend Griffiths says.
Sandy reacts with wide, startled eyes.
‘It’s nice to be able to put the congregation at ease, if possible. To say Doctor Heath passed peacefully in his sleep, for example.’
I want to tell him, to confess everything to the reverend and pray for his forgiveness, for my dad’s forgiveness. The words play out in my mind. He was ill, yes. He was dying, yes. But it wasn’t his time. He was murdered. I brought it upon him and he was alone. He was alone because I left him alone whilst I played Gregory’s fucked-up games and drank wine.
‘Doctor Heath had been sick for a long time, Reverend. Alzheimer’s disease, he had. Oh but he still had his moments; he could still make us smile,’ Sandy sings. ‘He was peaceful enough when he died. He was the most peaceful I’d seen him for months.’
‘No!’ I yell, banging my cup down onto my saucer. ‘No, Reverend, he was not peaceful; he was alone! He was in hospital because I wasn’t here to look after him and he died alone because I didn’t stay with him. I should’ve been there. I could’ve stopped it.’
‘That is not true!’ Sandy snaps. She walks halfway across the space between us and gestures for me to sit. I can’t meet her eye but do as instructed and take a seat on the sofa next to her.
